


There Is No Marriage in Heaven

by ManedWolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 13:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10922433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManedWolf/pseuds/ManedWolf
Summary: Snippets from two lives of quiet and growing desperation





	There Is No Marriage in Heaven

He made love to her as though gorging himself on forbidden fruit, then twisted himself away from her, spiking one elbow into the mattress, heaving as though nauseated by his shameful loss of self-control.

She lay, still and silent, staring at the ceiling.

 

"I'm –"

"I know." She heard the catch in his throat, emotions brusquely shoved behind the barrier of his uvula, even as the betraying words soughed past his lips.

She didn't dare to ask how he knew.

 

She brought him tea.

She didn't comment on the fact that she had spilled half the kettle. Twice.

Nor on the fact that his skin glistered sweat-clammy and shocky-white as he lay on their marriage bed -- slight trembling invisible to all but her own damnably perceptive eyes -- curled against the imprint of where her body had lain only minutes ago, twitching fingers still cupping imaginary flows of her hair.

 

"We're as good as dead, you know," he remarked almost conversationally over one of the pedestrian array of proper English breakfasts that marked the nearly identical days passing before them like beads on a string.

"Bellatrix will never stop hunting us, now that you carry my taint."

"I carry your child, Remus.

"I love you."

He sipped his tea, regarding her with those increasingly unfathomable eyes.

His cup met its saucer with a sharp clack.

"You shouldn't. I've killed us all."

 

"'Don't think,' you said. 'Just act, just be.' Carpe diem and all bloody that."

She had never heard him swear before this moment. She had never even heard him raise his voice in anger.

"I'm s-"

His pale hand slapped down against the table between them.

"Don't you ever say that!

"Don't you know ... ?"

His eyes followed her fixed stare to his splayed fingers.

He turned away with a jerk, both hands clenching convulsively, curving like claws.

 

He rummaged in the bureau drawers in the dark, muttering half to himself.

"He needs my help. I've tried not to intrude in his life, but I was wrong, I see that now."

"So you're leaving then."

He stilled his frenzied motions. "Not for long," he resumed. "Not for long. Dora, surely you didn't think I meant to ... "

He turned to face her, eyes dark in his white face, save for the miniscule points of light that were his pupils reflecting the moon that always found him no matter where he tried to hide.

"You did."

 

The door opened with a soft click.

She and her mother rose as one to stand shoulder to shoulder, wands drawn, first spells poised on their lips.

He stared at them a long moment, his grey-rimmed eyes drifting at last towards her belly as though he were seeing it for the first time. One hand tugged at the clasps on his black travelling cloak until it slid with a gentle susurration from his shoulders to the floor.

"Well, I'm back," he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a March challenge at rt_challenge on LiveJournal, to the prompt
> 
> "Don't cry --the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which says we are for each other:then laugh, leaning back in my arms for life's not a paragraph And death i think is no parenthesis" from e.e. cummings' "since feeling is first"
> 
> Set during DH and no picnic for my favorite couple. Adherence to the prompt is less questionable if one takes the entire poem into consideration. And when the author says, “snippets,” she’s not kidding, so brace yourself for brevity.


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